


Tripping Through What Might Have Been

by behind_the_trigger



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:38:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behind_the_trigger/pseuds/behind_the_trigger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glance at how things might have gone differently for Tylendel and Vanyel in the face of a mad plan for vengeance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tripping Through What Might Have Been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macdragon/gifts).



Followed on the rage that nearly consumed Tylendel, Vanyel felt a surge of force drawn from the core of his being, nearly driving him to his knees in the shock of it. A corner of his mind wondered if that was what a gut wound felt like, like something had been torn open. He barely had time to realize that there was a brightly lit lawn full of party goes before Tylendel dragged him to his feet and through the gate. There was a moment of complete disorientation, a flash of white that blinded him as he was dragged from the howling wind of the ruins and into the laughter and light of the celebration.

The shock of the passing dropped him to his knees, blackness dragging at his mind and vision as his beloved screamed his rage at the gathered Leshara. Before the grief-maddened boy could step forward more than a dozen paces and raise his hands, a second crossing through the portal dragged Tylendel to his knees as he shared the yank of force that burned through the bond that had been blown open between them for more power than Vanyel had left within himself. Vanyel found his voice again, crying out in agony as Gala thundered past him – she must have followed them more closely than they'd believed - skidding to a stop between her Chosen and the people he'd come to destroy in his need for vengeance. With what little strength he had left, Vanyel forced himself to watch Tylendel through vision that was growing increasingly unfocused.

: _No, Chosen!_ : Gala commanded, her voice echoing through Vanyel's screaming head, tied as tightly as he was to his beloved. : _You are better than this, my heart._ : She insisted, and had Vanyel the attention to spare in noticing it, her eyes glowed an unearthly blue. He didn't, only enough focus to watch as his Tylendel collapsed into himself, sobbing as Gala pressed her muzzle to his cheek.

A third shock of agony pulled with it Vanyel's consciousness, and the last thing he heard as the darkness closed in was Tylendel's voice shouting his name.

*

Savil helped Tylendel – who was shaking in reaction to what he'd nearly done - up onto Gala's back, holding him until he was steady on his own. She turned, then, to see the angry expression on Jaysen's face as he looked down at Vanyel. The boy was pale as a sheet, trembling even unconscious. Savil frowned at the other Herald before looking up at Lancir, who was still on his Companion's back. The three full Heralds had taken the time to throw their Companions' tack on, none of them necessarily young enough to go tearing off into the darkness without something to hold on to.

"I'll stay here and take care of things, Savil. Get them both home." The Queen's Own ordered, before looking in the direction of the Leshara family. "I'll make sure this is handled in the best possible way." He took a moment to look at Vanyel prostate on the ground and Tylendel draped limply over Gala's back. "Can you possibly move the Gate so that you don't have to take them so far?"

"I can, but how will you get home?" Savil asked, worried. The oldest of them, Lancir looked tired.

"Like any mortal; on our feet. Go, the boy is getting paler." As Savil nodded, Lancir turned Taver towards the knot of staring men and women, every bit the calm Queen's Own as the pair moved away.

Savil turned to face the Gate, able to feel the cold wind of the storm that had been created in the wake of so much disruptive magic. She heard Jaysen's exclamation of surprise and reminded him – again – of how she hated using Gates for just that reason. And reminded him that it would only get worse as she first moved the Gate terminus and then collapsed the Gate completely. 

Savil raised her hands and made an intricate weaving motion with her fingers, drawing sparks of red light from the Gate to her hands. She caught them and, as she suffused to power with **her** will, the power flashed white and the view in the Gate flashed incandescent before revealing the marble of the Grove Temple's front porch. She grabbed Vanyel by the fabric of his tunic and dragged him through with her, moving to the side as quickly as she could to let Jaysen and the Companions through so that she could close the Gate.

Leaving Vanyel to stagger to and cling to one columns supporting the Temple roof, Savil turned her attention to the Gate. Something was horribly wrong, the Gate fighting her somehow, and she called to Jaysen to help her. With a surge of power that brought half a dozen lightning bolts down on the bell tower of the Temple itself, the Gate collapsed. Unexpectedly - and completely unstoppable - the power of the Gate failed to dissipate, instead flaring and surging down the one conduit remaining to it. Both Heralds watched helplessly as Vanyel screamed, power crackling like lighting over his skin before following the marginally weaker link between and Tylendel.

The shock of the power was enough to jerk Tylendel from his shock-induced stupor, and he yelled out his love's name as Vanyel convulsed, the very ground itself seeming to quake along with him.

*

Vanyel came screaming awake to fire burning through his mind with the heat and ferocity of a forest fire. He convulsed, trying to clutch at his head. Over the rush of his heartbeat and the roaring fire, he thought he heard Tylendel's voice screaming his name. He moaned and curled in on himself, sobbing in agony. Hands touched him, fingertips pinpoints of cool against the heat of his skin on his face and his hands and along his neck and then something touched his mind and he screamed and flailed, trying to escape the hands and minds that held him.

Between one heartbeat and the next the raging fire was doused as quickly as that first yank of power all those hours ago – could it be only hours? - had ripped him open. Like the blessed cold of shoving steam-burnt fingertips in snow, the burning in his mind was muted, pushed aside by the new sensations. The feel of someone with him, someone not Tylendel. He could barely force his eyes open, and when he finally managed his first vision was of Tylendel – face red and puffy and out of focus, but so very much alive. Someone else pushed Tylendel away, and before Van could protest he found himself falling into bright blue eyes and everything else faded from mind. 

: _My poor burned Chosen, I worried I would never find you._ : The feminine voice in his mind was soft, not the echoing shout of Gala's mindvoice, and Van could only sink into the comfort and safety the voice offered.

: _My name is Yfandes, Chosen. Together, we will go far._ :


End file.
